Vitrosh
by Jenavira
Summary: A few years after "Objects at Rest", Lennier makes an encouraging discovery.  Angst.


_Vitrosh_

**Author's Notes:** This is one of those my-muse-smacked-me-upside-the-head-with-this-**weird**-idea fics, and it's in my usual tradition of angst for all. :) In other words, a particular episode of Crusade just left the door too wide open for me to ignore it. You'll know which episode by the time you're done. (No actual spoilers for Crusade, coincidentally.) The title is Minbari for "I'm sorry", as referenced on the wonderful Babylon 5 Alien Language Index.

**Disclaimer:** Lennier and his friend belong to JMS, even though he does horrible things to them.

  


* * *

  


It was a small, out-of-the-way planet, just on the edge of the main hyperspace currents. You could easily miss it if you were intent on another destination. Lennier only noticed it because there was nowhere else for him to go.

He was dying. He was certain of it - there was a feeling in his body of a clock ticking slowly down to an end that was not very far away. Sometime in the two years since he had left the Rangers, unable to cope with the day-to-day reminders of her life, he must have picked up a bug of some kind. Lennier wondered sometimes if it was the Shadow plague that the Drakh had cursed Earth with. It would be fitting.

The little ship he had purchased, barely more than a fighter but without the equipment, was low on fuel, and it never hurt to restock supplies, so when Lennier came upon the little planet in the middle of nowhere, he took a chance that the signs of life his instruments registered meant some sort of civilization and landed.

The place was even more desolate than it had appeared from space. It might once have been the home of a great civilization - the ruins of wide avenues and towering buildings suggested great wealth and majesty - but it was deserted now. Perhaps the climate had changed, driving inhabitants away, for the sun was weak and the atmosphere hazy. Disappointed, Lennier surveyed the landscape from just outside his ship, then sighed and turned back inside to check his instruments.

His hands moved assuredly over the many buttons and switches; he had always been adept at technology, and he had had plenty of time to become familiar with these controls. He frowned at the readings they were giving him - the sensors still insisted upon lifeforms somewhere in this once-city. Sticking his head back out the hatch, Lennier looked around more closely. Finally, he saw it - the one building still fully standing. It was easy to see why he'd missed it the first time, for it was built almost directly into the cliff face that bordered the western edge of the city. Now that he saw it, though, he could identify distinct signs of construction upon it. Finally deciding there was nothing else for it - he really was running low on fuel - Lennier seized his cloak from his tiny bunk and set off.

The walk didn't take as long as he'd expected, and in a little less than ten minutes he found himself standing in front of a pair of massive doors. He gazed at them calmly, his Minbari-trained mind not daunted by the fact that there was no obvious way in. They were doors; somehow, they would open. Lennier began studying them carefully, running his hands over the surface of the doors, which were covered with centuries of dirt and grime, and studying the crack where they fitted together.

A spot near the ground where the dirt wasn't quite so thick alerted him to the writing there. He carefully brushed the dirt away, studying the inscription. He could see two languages, he realized - neither of which he understood, unfortunately. But perhaps there were more? A few more minutes of study, and Lennier found an inscription he understood. Confused, he sat back on his heels, studying the doors.

"Enter freely through the Path of Sorrows."

He had no doubts that each of the inscriptions said the same thing in their own languages. He wondered again what sort of civilization had been here, and what had happened to it. He was sitting in front of a temple, he thought, a spiritual crossroads for all those who must have passed through. Long ago, these doors had probably stood open to travellers, or perhaps then the key had been widely known. For now, though, Lennier had to continue his search.

It seemed he was there for hours, though he had no real way of gauging the time, no way of knowing how long a day was on this world. The sun had begun to set and what little light there was was fading. He was exhausted, and he was being forcibly reminded of the other thing he had been running low on - medication for the pain that often wracked his body without warning. It had been getting worse lately, and without regular access to medical facilities, there was no way to control it.

Letting out a slow breath and trying not to cry out with the pain, Lennier leaned his forehead carefully against the doors, resting his weight on their immovable faces. A few unwanted tears of frustration and pain leaked from under his eyelids, for all he tried to control them. He was still a Ranger, still Minbari, and if all else failed, he would face his death with dignity.

At first he thought it was a figment of his imagination, a false sensation from overtaxed nerves, but then he stepped back and saw - the doors were opening. Amazed, he watched as they made their slow progress apart and finally stopped, leaving a gap of perhaps ten feet between them. Still not knowing what had finally caused them to yield, and in all honesty not caring any more, Lennier stepped inside.

The interior certainly reminded him of a temple. The ceiling was high, so high it was invisible in the darkness, and the round room stretched out perhaps two dozen yards in diameter. Directly in the center, lit from some unidentifiable light source, stood a pedestal. Upon it was a large globe, made perhaps of glass, and filled with smoke. Curious, Lennier stepped forward to examine it, but when he reached the pedestal, he was not looking into a globe of smoke but into a very alien but undoubtedly intelligent face.

Before he could completely regain himself, the alien in the globe tilted its head a little, regarding him carefully, and spoke directly into his mind. You are in pain.

Lennier couldn't keep the wry smile off his face. He most certainly was. But, on second thought, that didn't seem to be what the alien meant.

You feel...betrayed.

The wry smile returned. "I was not the one who was betrayed," he said in a voice thick and rusty with disuse.

The alien didn't reply, merely stared at him with its large, fathomless eyes.

"What is this place?" Lennier asked it. "Why are you here?"

The alien looked back at him still. Forgiveness.

Lennier shook his head, uncomprehending, and suddenly found himself deep in his own memories.

He saw himself - was himself - arriving on Babylon 5 , meeting Delenn for the first time, heard her comment about an aide who would be forever walking into things if he did not look up. He looked up into her eyes, and fell in love with her.

He knelt in her quarters on Babylon 5, meditating in front of her cocoon. He helped her out of it again, saw the fear in her eyes as she wondered what she had done to herself. He watched in amazement as she discovered what the transformation had done.

He talked to Marcus in Downbelow, in a room full of unconscious Lurkers, and admitted his love for her aloud for the first time as part of the rebirth ceremony.

He stood vigil in her quarters as she and Sheridan went through the neccesary rituals before they could marry.

He ran down a corridor on the Whitestar, hearing Sheridan's confused voice calling his name, stopped, turned back only to find he was too late to redeem himself.

He stood before her one last time, unable again to even look her in the eyes, as he handed back his Ranger uniform and left the Anla'Shok.

When he came back to himself - to the present, at least - Lennier found himself leaning against the globe, palms pressed against it, breathing hard. The pain had returned, and it was all he could do to remain standing, even supported as he was. After several long moments, he forced himself to step away, and he looked back at the alien in the globe.

Forgiveness, it said again, watching him with those still, unblinking eyes.

Forgiveness, thought Lennier. Not at all a bad idea. And perhaps - it was a painful thought, for it suggested that he had suffered a great deal in vain - perhaps not as impossible as he had once thought.

Maybe he imagined it, but he thought he saw approval in the alien's large eyes before smoke filled the globe again.

Lennier looked up and around, still slightly dazed, and off to his right he noticed a door that he was almost certain hadn't been there before. Cautiously, afraid of the pain in his legs, he stepped toward it. It lead to a small, comfortable looking room, lit warmly with the kind of light this planet's sun might once have given, and furnished sparsely but well. A bed sat against one wall and a cooking unit against the other. Another door to the left presumably led to a bathroom. Lennier found himself approving of it. There were worse places, he thought, to live out the rest of one's life, however long or short that may be. Too tired to explore further, he sank onto the bed, and the pain subsided as he relaxed. As he drifted off to sleep, one word was in his mind.

_Forgiveness._

He did not dream.

  
  
  



End file.
